What Counts
by Cleo the Muse
Summary: AO 'Home Injury' challenge response. Daniel's been working too hard, so Jack plans a romantic dinner to get him to unwind. JD slash, obviously.


**What Counts **by Cleo the Muse  
Rating: Older Kids  
Genre: Slash (Jack/Daniel), Romance, Established Relationship  
Warnings: None  
Episodes: Passing mention of "Window of Opportunity", "Lost City", "New Order", and _Atlantis_' "Rising".  
Synopsis: AO "Home Injury" challenge response. Daniel's been working too hard, so Jack plans a romantic dinner to get him to unwind.  
Status: Complete as of June 1, 2007.  
Notes: This is only my second slash 'fic ever, so yay for a challenge making me stop writing D/V 'ship and Little Danny cuteness for a few hours!

* * *

**What Counts**

_"When goose down is sent a thousand miles,  
the gift may be light but the sentiment is weighty."  
-- Chinese proverb_

Jack closed the lid on the grill, then headed inside to check on the potatoes in the oven. He grabbed a mitt and squeezed the centers, then switched the oven off to keep the softened tubers warm. Turning to the pile of vegetables he'd chopped earlier, he dumped the lot into the steaming basket, then filled the stockpot with water and set it to boil.

The motivation behind the evening was two-fold. Firstly, he intended to prove to Daniel that he really _could_ grill steaks without using a beer-based marinade _or _burning them. Secondly, the SGC's premier linguist _really_ needed a chance to unwind, especially after having participated in four missions over the course of the last two weeks without a single day off. It was, regrettably, the direct result of Earth having sent most of Daniel's students of the Ancient language off to Atlantis, leaving the teacher himself pretty much the only qualified translator of Ancient in the galaxy.

If he were honest with himself, he had a third reason, too. Two weeks without Daniel meant he was desperate to have him right back where he belonged: in Jack's bed. Of course, the younger man might be entirely too tired to do anything adventurous, but Jack's plans included a hot soak in the tub and a massage. If neither of those were successful in putting Daniel to sleep, then he'd doubtlessly be sufficiently relaxed for an evening of tender love-making.

The archaeologist had the next two days off, and Jack intended to spend every moment he wasn't on-base waiting on him hand-and-foot... and jumping him at every opportunity, too. He didn't deserve a man as brilliant and beautiful as Daniel, but that didn't mean he wouldn't make every effort to try to earn the love he was so freely given. In that regard, he was so far in debt, he'd probably never break even... not that he minded.

Opening the freezer door, he pulled out the tub of Cool Whip and dropped it in the sink to thaw. The strawberries could stay in their bowl in the fridge until dessert, he decided, then wondered if Daniel had gotten the note he'd taped to the inside of his locker yet. All it said was "romantic dinner at my place", but he'd taken the time to write it in Ancient, figuring that _that _would get the linguist's attention better than anything else. Thor might have been successful in taking out all the crap given him by his most-recent encounter with an Ancient Head Sucker, but Jack's knowledge of the language came from all the time he'd spent "looping". He'd never admit to anyone that he remembered as much of it as he did, though.

On the other hand, if he 'fessed up, that might mean more opportunities when the Joint Chiefs would approve his traveling off-world. Then again, he'd never get to go with SG-1 since they _had_ an Ancient translator. That put him right back to square one, then. Rats.

He glanced over at the coffee table, smiling to himself at his own ingenuity. Rather than setting the dining room table, he'd bought a few large cushions from a home décor store and scattered them on the floor of the living room. It had the potential to be hell on his knees, but he'd tested it out yesterday by playing a game of solitaire on the coffee table, and the troublesome joints hadn't protested even once.

Satisfied with the arrangements, he grabbed the steaks from the fridge, stepping around the cushions on his way out the deck door. Opening the lid, he was pleased to see the coals were evenly warmed, and took care to arrange the marinated meat on the center of the rack. If he'd timed everything correctly, Daniel would be getting home _just_ as the steaks were finishing, so they'd be tender and juicy the way steaks were meant to be.

He glanced down in horror, realizing he had yet to change clothes. A t-shirt and jeans were fine for puttering around the house, but would never do for an evening of seduction. He eyed the steaks, wondering if he had enough time to dash into the bedroom or not. If he was _quick _about it...

Mind made up, he ran into the living room, bounding over the pillows on his way down the hall. Fortunately, he'd picked out his clothes yesterday, and they were laid out and waiting atop the chair beside the bed. Stripping off his muck-abouts, he yanked on the gray trousers and the black-and-silver button-down he'd bought for just this occasion. Daniel loved his hair--ought to, since he was responsible for every one of those damn gray hairs--and the lady at the department store had assured him the shirt was the perfect complement.

Balling up the t-shirt and jeans, he pitched them at the laundry basket in the bathroom. They missed, though, the shirt ending up on the floor and one leg of the denim dangling over the edge of the basket. Grumbling, he marched into the bathroom and deposited them properly, since it wouldn't do well to trip over his dirty clothes when he was leading Daniel to the candle-lined bathtub.

He briefly consider shoes, but then decided that leaving his feet bare would mean less to remove later. It would also be a great way to find out if Daniel had as much of a fixation on his feet as he did on _his_. A barefoot Daniel was a sure way to light Jack O'Neill's fire.

Fire... the steaks! Nearly yelping in panic, he sped down the hall, hoping he wasn't too late to save the marinated meat from charred doom. He put out his hands to bounce off of the corner and turn into the living room, pleased to see there wasn't a cloud of black smoke rising from the grill.

In his haste, he forgot about the cushions spread out on the living room floor. His bare foot came down on the edge of one, throwing off his balance and pitching him sideways. He windmilled his arms, felt something pop in his knee, then went down hard. The back of his head hit the corner of the coffee table, and everything went dark.

He awakened to the sound of a steady beeping, groaning when he recognized the rhythm and tone as a heart monitor. "Infirmary?" he guessed, sensing someone to his right even as he turned to look.

Daniel closed his book and straightened up in his chair. "Memorial," he answered, just as Jack realized he was actually in a hospital. "They're keeping you overnight to watch the concussion. Doctor Brightman stopped by on her way home, though."

"Well, that was sweet," he joked, reaching up to check the back of his head. It was tender, but not bandaged, so he figured he got off lightly. Then he glanced down at his wrapped and elevated knee and sighed.

"Wrecked it again, did I?"

"Yep," Daniel agreed too-cheerfully, crossing his arms on the edge of the bed. "Brightman ordered you off your feet for a few days, so I guess you'll be stuck with me as your assistant."

"I could do worse," Jack grinned, then groaned. "Crap. Dinner."

"Teal'c and Sam cleaned things up before they came here. They couldn't stay long, though: Reynolds is off-world, which means Sam--"

"--Has the big chair," he finished, sighing. "I had our whole evening planned, too."

"It's the thought that counts," Daniel replied, capturing his hand and planting a kiss across his knuckles. "Of course, that was _before_ I found you unconscious in the living room while the steaks burned and the steamed vegetables boiled dry."

"Crap."

"But, since you'll be following doctor's orders," he continued, "we'll have the opportunity to have that romantic dinner tomorrow or the next day." He leaned in and captured Jack's lips, his kiss gentle and sweet.

"Yeah, but it was supposed to _me _waiting on _you_ hand-and-foot for the next two days, not the other way around. And much as I like it, no kissing in public, either."

Daniel looked smug. "I talked them into giving you a private room, since you're an important general and all. Add that to your list of 'pros'."

"Private room at the hospital, got it."

The linguist leaned back, reaching to the side of his chair and coming up with the Jack's small "six pack" cooler. "It's after midnight, so the nurses won't be back in until morning. How about we have that romantic dinner anyway?"

"It wasn't all ruined?"

Opening the lid, Daniel set out the covered bowl of strawberries and the Cool Whip. "Dessert's still good," he grinned.

Jack _really_ didn't deserve Daniel, but he wasn't about to complain. He'd just add it to what he already owed.

* * *

Author's Notes:  
...But I think Daniel would consider himself just as deeply in debt, don't you? 


End file.
